


Game of Zones

by hoyjammeh



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basketball, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderbending, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-20 01:56:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7386178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoyjammeh/pseuds/hoyjammeh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Robb injures himself before the 'Game of Zones', Sansa is forced to take her brother's place and pretends to be him. There she meets Jon Snow, the brooding star athlete who knows nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

My brother winces as he limps his way off the car. It’s so unusual seeing a frown on his ever-so-haughty face. And his carefree best friend trails behind him with furrowed brows, I swear if it weren’t for the gravity of the situation, it would have been a funny picture.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” My brother curses in each steps he takes. His ankle was badly sprained when he landed on it instead of his feet. He and his best friend Theon were playing pick-up ball in the park. It wasn’t a real game. I knew it was only for a show because it’s Saturday and both of them knew that there were a couple of girls who would show up for the volleyball summer league tryouts. Theon and Robb fancied themselves as ladies’ men because they were lean, athletic and were sort of pleasing to the eyes. The fact that both of them were two of the best basketball players in school adds to their already inflating ego. Although that ego’s been deflated now, much to their dismay. 

“I’m sure that fade-away shot was brilliantly done.” I say sarcastically.

Robb grimaces. He looks to Theon for help.

“His shot did go in, despite the terrible landing.” Theon reminds me.

“Robb, is that what you would call an ankle-breaker?” I say and Robb’s face turned more sullen.

“You’re my sister. Don’t you have a heart to feel sorry for me at all?” Robb pleads, his blue eyes gleaming with so much shame. “I’m going into my senior year now. I can’t be injured. There will be scouts looking into me and I have to give them a good impression.”

“You’re right.” I realize how frustrating it must be for Robb. I feel really sorry for him. “But the doctor says it’s not that bad. You can play again when school resumes.” I offer in consolation.

Theon glances at Robb with a distraught expression on his face. “But what about the summer camp next week?”

Robb throws his head back and mutters another curse word. “I totally forgot about that.”

“Bro, it’s next week. You know how we’ve always wanted to participate in it ever since it opened last year. And now we finally have enough money to go!”

“I know. I know. It’s just that…” Robb trails off and points at his swollen ankle. “This damn thing… I'm not sure if I can...”

“Maybe it will magically get better next week? The doctor said it’s just a minor sprain.” Theon says optimistically and I scoff at his stupidity.

"It's not going to magically heal itself, Theon."

“Maybe if you ice it well enough.” 

“Oh my god! Are you high or something? You heard that doctor. If he strains himself further it could get worse. Robb is not playing until he is ruled out.” I say sternly and then I turn towards my brother. “If you still want to play basketball, you know you can’t risk your health, unless you want to be a cripple, then be my guest.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Theon sighs inwardly. “The membership fee was really expensive, coupled with the workshop fee and accommodation fee. It will be such a waste for you to just quit.”

“Maybe, they’ll refund me if I withdraw.” Robb suggests.

“Didn’t you read the terms and agreement on the email? It’s non-refundable. It’s not even transferable so you can’t sell your spot.”

“Shit.” Robb cries in frustration. “You know all my savings went to that workshop and I even had to take a part-time job to pay for the 1,000-dollar membership fee.”

“Why’s that so expensive?” I ask.

“It’s hosted at Casterly Rock, a five-star resort. And the coaches they’re bringing in are legit former pro-ball players.” Theon says. “Plus, the legendary Hall of Famer Barristan Selmy will be guest coach.” Theon says as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Well, it can’t be helped. It’s not like you can hire an actor to pose as you.”

I see a weird glimmer of light in both Robb’s and Theon’s eyes, the moment I made the crazy suggestion. I shrug to indicate that I was just being sarcastic, but Robb stares at me more intensely.

“Remember the first time I introduce you to Sansa, Theon?” Robb asks the other boy, his blue eyes not leaving mine.

Theon nods faintly. “Yeah, I tried to hit on her, so you collared me.”

“No, I mean what you said to me after that.” Robb says impatiently and Theon shrugs. “You said I would look like Sansa if I wear a wig.”

“Oh, that!” Theon claps his hands but he doesn’t get what Robb is implying.

“You don’t mean—“ I try to reason out with Robb, but only after Theon catches on.

“You do have an uncanny similarity.” Theon says in agreement. “Auburn hair and blue eyes. You guys could pass on as twins despite being two years apart.”

“There’s even a little difference in height.” Robb points out. “I stand just a few inches taller than Sansa. I’m sure that’s hardly noticeable.”

“Wait guys.” I interrupt their plans by snapping my fingers at them. “You’re crazy. Stop it!”

“Don’t you think it’s a brilliant idea, Sansa?” Robb seeks approval. “If you sub for me, I don’t have to withdraw and my money won’t have to go to waste.”

“Better yet.” Theon says. “You’ll receive the certificate from them, indicating that you’ve completed their workshop. And it would make an attractive thing on your resume? I’m sure it will give you an edge over other college applicants.”

“No, it’s a stupid idea.”

“How is it stupid?” Robb arches his eyebrows. “Unless you have a better idea…”

“You’re delusional I’m not even going to participate in it.” I said with finality. “You can be damned if you want, but I’m not subscribing to that horrible idea. There’s no way it would work.”

“Oh, Sansa, you are indeed heartless.” Theon looks at me with pleading eyes. “You’re brother’s hurting. Can’t you see? He needs you.”

“If you want someone to pretend to be a boy, why not ask Arya? She already looks the part.” I suggest.

“No, it has to be YOU!” Robb insists. “Arya doesn’t look anything like me and she’s too short and too young to pass on as me. You, on the other hand, we’re almost like twins.”

“Don’t get me involved in your shenanigans, Robb.” I say irately. “I’m a straight A-student and I’ll most likely get voted as Prom queen next year and if I’m good, Daddy will fund for my trip to Italy with Randa and Mya. I’m sorry I just can’t get in any trouble.” I twirl and flip my red shiny hair.

“Sans,” I hear Robb call out as I walk away from them. “Sans, if you don’t do this, I’ll tell Mom and Dad about Joffrey!”

I freeze in my steps and turn sharply towards Robb. He knows where to hit a nail and Joffrey is the nail to my coffin. Robb looks at me desperately and I remember I was in a similar position as him a year ago, when I ask him to keep mum about Joffrey.

“You wouldn’t dare.” I warn him.

Knowing that he’s struck a chord, Robb’s lips twitch into a sinister smile of victory. Theon beside him eyes him nervously. He knows the story, too. He was the one who restrained Robb when Robb burst into anger.

“You’re blackmailing me. How dare you?” My voice echoes in the living room. Thankfully, the rest of the family are not home yet.

“You know I hate to do this, Sansa. I really do. But you leave me no choice.” Robb says apologetically.

“You know you can’t get away with this.” I say crossing my arms around my chest. “If Mommy and Daddy finds out—“

“Mom and Dad won’t find out. It’s only for a couple of weeks. When they find out about my injury, they won’t let me go anyway, regardless of whether the workshop’s expensive or not. And as for you, I’m sure we can easily make an excuse for you.”

“Like what?” I scoff.

Robb rubs his chin for a moment and then his eyes glisten with a promising idea. “You can tell them you’re visiting your friend Myranda, maybe for a couple of weeks? Tell them you’re apprenticing or something.”

I shake my head. “That won’t work. That won’t work. I don’t want to lie, Robb, not especially to Mommy and Daddy.”

"Well, think of it as acting then. You’ve done theatre before and you played Annie. Well, this time, you’re playing the part as me.”

“But that’s different Robb. Annie’s a musical and I was given a script to follow. What you’re asking right now is for me to commit a felony.”

“C’mon, Sans, please…” Robb pleads. “I’ve covered for you when you lied to Mom and Dad about Joffrey. Now, it’s my time to ask for your help.” Robb looks at me with puppy eyes.

“Okay, fine!” I throw my hands in the air. “Damn you, Robb Stark! You win!”

Robb and Theon exchange smiles.

“But you owe me big time!”

“Anything, my dear sister!” Robb says enthusiastically.

“And I will not cut my hair!”

“I’m sure we can find a suitable wig.” Robb nods at Theon and Theon agrees.

“And I’m not wearing your clothes.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Robb grimaces.

“No varsity jackets or jerseys. Not even those with sleeves. I don’t want to look like a jock.”

“But I am a jock. And you're pretending to be me.”

“But if I’m to be a guy, I might as well dress the way I want to. This is my offer. Take it or leave it.” I say adamantly.

Robb and Theon consult each other in whispers.

“Fine.” Robb gives in with a sigh. “But no scarves or colorful cardigans or berets! Even if you’re a girl, you’ll still play me as a straight guy. Which means, there will be no flirting or even ogling at boys. You can’t tarnish my image.”

“Yeah whatever. But that’s not my only condition. I want your car as well.”

“No!” Robb and Theon both protest.

“You are asking me a favor this big.” I arched my eyebrow at him. “So, I’m asking for a big wager in return.”

“But it’s too much, Sansa. Don’t you think so, Theon?”

Theon presses his lips together with his fingers. He gives me a meaningful stare and he turns to Robb and squeezes his shoulders. “Do we have a choice?”

“Oh, fuck. Fine!” Robb gives in and smacks his forehead. We sit down and brainstorm for our plans. This will be quite an interesting summer vacation.


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m doomed.” My stomach lurches as I see a parade of boys in queue. There’s so much testosterone. “I don’t think I can survive this.”

After all, I am Sansa Stark from Minnesota, a girly girl by heart, lover of purple things, collector of Mac lipsticks, Vogue magazines and EOS lip balms. My spirit animal is a unicorn, if they ever existed. I love wearing my high heels even if I’d tower over everyone if I’m on them, I’ve never worn pants, only skirts or dresses. I never go out of the house without doing my eyebrows. I’m addicted to lemon cakes, and lemon scented candles. My jam is any song by Beyonce and when it hits the chorus, I can never stop myself from dancing.

But right now at this very moment, I am Robb Stark, an idiotic basketball athlete who’s clumsy and stupid. I am in Casterly Rock, a huge mountain resort overlooking the bay for the Game of Zones, a summer basketball clinic that Robb wasted his savings on. Right now, I’m in Theon’s old ratty Jordans. I’m uncomfortable in Bran’s trousers and my head is itchy from my tucked hair. 

Theon rests his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you can pull it off. You’re a great actress.” 

“I’m not nervous about pretending to be Robb. I’m nervous about how I can interact with the guys. You guys are a weird species to understand.”

“Speak for yourself. It’s you girls who have a language of your own. Maybe, if you girls are more direct, the world would probably be a more peaceful place to live in.”

“Hey! It’s not women who starts the wars. It’s men who do!”

“Well, you might be right.” Theon says warily. “But don’t get me wrong. I love women, but now isn’t the right time and place to enforce your feminist views. You’re Robb now. Talk like him.”

“Right.” I nod solemnly. “I’ll just dumb myself down. How does that sound?”

Theon takes offense for Robb and frowns. “Just please tone down the Audrey Hepburn quotes and don’t insert ‘Oh my god,’ every after sentence.”

“Oh my god, I do not!”

Theon raises his brows and I covered my mouth with my hands.

 

“So, how will the room arrangements go?” I ask Theon.

“We’ll be staying in villas and each team is housed in one villa and each room will be occupied by two people. Don’t worry. We’ll be on the same team anyway. If you’re paired with someone else, I’ll ask him to trade rooms with me.”

I sigh in relief and then I realize that it’s Theon as in Theon Greyjoy, the same guy who had relentlessly tried to flirt with me in the past, the same guy who joked about having a crush on me. That was two years ago and he’s grown out of that habit, but that doesn’t mean he’ll forever be chaste. I know how he and Robb talk about women. I know that back in the eighth grade they traded dirty magazines with each other.

“You won’t try to do anything stupid with me.” I say ominously as we enter the resort lobby. 

Theon rolls his eyes. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look eerily like a clean-shaven Robb. It would be kind of weird.”

“Good.” I pat the wig that’s resting on my head. Robb bought me the expensive kind, so even if I run and jump around with it, it wouldn’t fall off easily. It was almost easy to mirror his image. I put off plucking my brows for a week to grow thicker ones. As a girl, I’m appalled at how bushy they’ve become now, but as Robb, it’s the perfect disguise. It was what set me apart from being Sansa. But the most difficult part about masquerading as Robb was having to bind my chest. If only they were smaller, it would have been much easier. But I’m a cup C, so it’s a struggle. Even with the binder, they still peek through my shirt. The only solution to this was to wear shirts three sizes bigger than me. So, despite me protesting about wearing Robb’s varsity jacket and hoodies, I was left with no other choice.

The airy room is filled with hollering boys about my age and maybe a bit older. A large banner was hanged in front of the lobby to welcome the delegates to the Game of Zones: A Basketball Summer Workshop and Clinic. 

 

They’re serving Gatorade on a stand, I guess it’s one of the camp’s major event sponsors. There’s a poster stand in front of the concierge of another sponsor: The Lannisters Corps. 

“Oh my God.” I freeze in my feet as I spot the familiar blond boy seated across the lobby. As usual he has this smug look on his face as he’s chatting with two really tall intimidating guys. His back is turned slightly from me, so he couldn’t see me but there’s no mistake it’s him as I feel my blood boiling. My impulse has me dock behind Theon’s back.

“Oh my God!”

“What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Joffrey.” I whisper to Theon while I cowered under my hands. “Why is he here? He doesn’t even play basketball.”

Theon searches for him in the room and when he spots his pathetic golden hair, he snickers. “Little punk’s as smug as always.”

“You guys didn’t mention that the Lannisters sponsored this event.”

“Don’t the Lannisters own this resort?” Theon says confounded. “Why? What’s wrong with the Lannisters?”

“Joffrey is a Lannister!” I hiss. 

Theon looks astounded and I can’t blame him. He and Robb thought Joffrey was just any other regular asshole I had the misfortune of dating. I left out the part about him being heir to a prestigious company just to avoid any fuss as Robb was already too intent on waging a war against him. 

I tug Theon’s sleeve. “He’ll notice me. I know he will.”

Theon turns to me. “He’s not going to come near us.”

“And why not?”

“We might have threatened him.” Theon responds with a reassuring nod and I blinked at him, surprised. “He’s terrified of me and Robb. We cornered him in the parking lot basement one time. Fucker’s so terrified that he probably pissed his pants.”

“What if he can tell me and Robb apart?”

 

“Don’t worry. He didn’t really get to see our faces properly. It was dark and we were wearing hoodies. Why didn’t you tell us he’s a Lannister? He wasn’t just gloating after all when he said he can buy anyone off.”

“Let’s just go find our rooms and try to stay out of his way.” I say as I turn away from Joffrey’s direction and head for the registration counter. I hope I won’t ever have to cross paths with Joffrey. I hope he’s not officially part of this summer league workshop. I doubt he can even dribble a ball.

“Which team are we in again?”

“Wolves.” Theon says. “Northerners always choose Wolves as tribute to our basketball team, the ‘Timberwolves’.”

Theon leads me to the desk under a blue-grey banner of a wolf’s head. A large beefy man with silver hair and a distinct muttonchop beard greets us. “I’m Coach Rodrik Cassel. Please sign beside your name here, then proceed to the receptionist to receive your card key.” He hands Theon a clipboard with the list of our names and room assignments.

Theon scans through the list and signs. Then he hands the sheet to me with a baffled look on his face. There are only fifteen names on the list. There’s a Bolton, a Cassel, a Cerwyn, two Forresters, Theon Greyjoy… but there’s no Stark.

“Excuse me sir,” I hand the clipboard back to Coach Cassel. “I can’t find my name anywhere.”

“What’s your name?”

“Stark, San—I mean Robb Stark, sir.” 

Coach Cassel squints and reviews the paper. He shakes his head when he can’t find my name. Then he opens a clearbook which contained what looked like player information and biodatas. I see him scan past Theon’s sheet, but the last file on the book was of John Umber. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t find your name. You probably belong to another team. Did you register late?”

I glance back at Theon and he whispers in my ear, “Robb submitted his application on time, but he wasn’t able to pay the full payment until after the deadline.”

“Sir,” I say to Coach Cassel. “I submitted my application on time but I paid after the deadline.”

“Oh,” Coach Cassel nods. “By the deadline we’ve already filled our roster. Maybe you were assigned on another team instead. Why don’t you try checking with the ‘Crows’?”

There’s this certain look on the whiskered man that suggests that the Crows were the Hufflepuffs of this summer league. Among the other teams with spirited colors: the red and golden banners of the Lions, the silver blue-greys of the Wolves, the cobalt blues of the Falcons, the Yellow banners of the Gazelles, the fiery reds of the Dragons and the Green and Gold banners of the Roses, the Crows stood unassumingly under a black banner with a silhouette of a spread-eagled crow in white. They also have the smallest banner, too.

“Theon, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know. I guess you have to sign up with them?” Theon points at the desk beside the Wolves. Currently, there’s a fat boy signing up and I can already tell that this team was going to suck.

“You can’t leave me!” 

“I’m not going to. I’m just on the other team, that’s all.”

“What about the room arrangements?”

“Fuck it, I guess?”

I sigh in frustration. I’m so pissed with Robb at the moment. I can’t believe I let him talk me into this stupid idea. Worse, he didn't pay on time, so my spot on the Wolves' team was compromised. And Theon who promised to be there for me isn’t much help at all.

“You can do this, Sansa.” Theon pats my shoulder. “I believe in you.”

I glare icily at him. I know he’s only trying to make me feel better, but he’s making it worse.

“Hey,” A dark haired boy approaches us and interrupts our conversation. “You’re Theon Greyjoy, right?”

“I am.” Theon nods at him.

“I’m Ramsay Bolton.” He cracks a smile. “We’re roommates. I already got your keys for you. Let’s go together. We’re assigned in the Winterfell villa with the rest of our teammates. I hear it’s close to the hot springs. Isn’t that awesome?”

“Oh, cool.” Theon replies. He looks at me sideways and there’s an apologetic look in his face.

“So, I guess I’ll see you later, huh?”

I pleaded with my eyes. I don’t want Theon to leave me yet when I have no clue what to do. But Ramsay already grabs his suitcase for him and Theon has no choice but to follow.

I saunter towards the Crow’s booth. Indeed, my name is listed there and reluctantly but abidingly, I sign Robb’s signature next to it, then I proceed to the receptionist to get my card key. I’m assign to Room 203 in a villa called ‘Castle Black’ with a roommate called Jon Snow.

I’m fidgeting in nervousness as I drag my suitcase with me. I am crafting many ways on how I can protect my identity in my head. I have no idea who Jon Snow is. I could only wish he’s not a creep or a weirdo. If he is, I’m going straight back to Minnesota.

As Sansa, I always feel uncomfortable around men. There is just something weird and suggestive in the way they look at me that causes me to cringe. My friend Randa says that I should be flattered they look at me that way, but it’s always disconcerting when they stare at me like a piece of meat instead of a real human being.

As Robb, there wouldn’t be a problem, I guess. I’m surrounded with guys at the moment but none of them are looking at me strangely. In a weird way, I feel more comfortable and safer in Robb’s skin. 

“Hello,” The fat boy who I saw sign up earlier waves at me. He has an affable smile that I return with a smile just as friendly. He looks very kind and I feel instantly sorry for having judged him earlier. I’m such a terrible person.

“I’m Samwell Tarly, by the way, but you can call me Sam.” He fidgets shyly. “You’re Robb Stark, aren’t you?”

I nod. It still feels weird being called Robb.

“I heard about you. My team Hornhill played against you in the semis. You destroyed our team with 32 points. I’m surprised you’re joining Team Crow. Usually northerners join the Wolves.”

Before I can answer, a thin man with black hair and wide ears cuts in. “Maybe, he’s snubbed by the Wolves like the rest of us are.”

“Oh, there’s no way. Robb Stark annihilated us last year.” Sam says in my defense. “My schoolmates refer to him as the ‘Young Wolf’; they say he is as quick as one.”

“Everyone knows that Team Crow is the place where all of us snubbed participants go.” The thin boy says with conviction. “You’re name is Samwell, right?”

“You can call me Sam if you like.” Sam offers.

“Well, I’m Pyp. This is Grenn.” The thin boy says as a larger and taller boy nods behind him. “Grenn and I enlisted for the Lions, but of course, we were snubbed, so they put us here instead. Which team did you enlist in?”

“I enlisted for the Roses.” Sam admits. “My brother chose the team but only he got in. My second choice would have been the Dragons, but they don’t have room for me either. How about you guys? Why the Lions? Is it because Jaime Lannister who’s MVP last year is back as their coach now?”

“Not just that.” Pyp says as-a-matter-of-factly. “Look at them. They’ve got a huge height advantage. With the Clegane brothers, a.k.a. the Twin Towers, back again this year, they’re decidedly the champions.”

“I would rather play for a losing team than get stuck warming benches in a good team.” A dour-faced boy joins in the conversation. 

“That’s nice, Edd,” Pyp muses. “But did you really choose to play for the Crows, though?”

Edd blushes, “My first choice was the Falcons and then the Wolves.”

“Exactly.” Pyp says all-knowingly. “And do you see that man over there?” Pyp gestures to a large man with red hair and a thick full beard munching on a roll of bread by the Gatorade stand. “I hear he’s from juvie along with another one. The government sponsored them as part of their formation or something. The organizers didn’t want to mix them with the other boys, so they automatically sorted them into the Crows.”

We all look at each other with pessimism written all over our faces. There is solidarity and mutual understanding among losers.

“But who says we can’t be on the winning team?” Sam breaks the ice with an overly pleasant tone. “I think we have promising talents this year. We’ve got Robb Stark now.” Everyone’s eyes fall on me. I tense when I feel them inspect me from head to toe. Boy are they up for such a disappointment.

“You look as frail as a girl.” Pyp comments. I close my palms behind me and squares my shoulder like a man.

“Speak for yourself, Pyp.” Grenn says. “Look at you. You look anemic.”

“Shut up, Grenn! What is brawns when you’ve got no brain?”

“And,” Sam brings attention to himself once more, ending the argument between Grenn and Pyp. “We’ve also got Jon Snow.”

Everyone’s ears perk up at the mention of Jon Snow, including me because I just found out I’m rooming with him. 

“Jon Snow was last year’s Rookie of the Year.” Pyp says. “He played for the Wolves in last year’s summer league. Why is he with us? He should have a choice to pick a better team.”

“I don’t know.” Sam shrugs. “But I think that’s him talking to Coach Mormont.”

“Are you sure that’s him? He’s shorter than I thought.” Grenn says doubtfully to Sam. 

“Definitely him.” Sam nods. “I saw his pictures on the website. They acknowledged him as last year’s Rookie of the Year.”

I follow their gazes and see a curly-haired boy talking to a distinctly esteemed old man. His arms are crossed tightly around his chest and his eyes are narrowed as he listens intently to what the coach was telling him.

And then he catches my eye. He gazes back at me with curiosity. He brings his attention back to the coach, but he looks back at me again, this time more intensely.

He’s very pretty—this Jon Snow guy. The way his eyes met mine, I feel butterflies swirling in my stomach. That’s weird. Why is he looking at me like that? Is he flirting with me? 

But I realize I’m not Sansa anymore, so unlike Sansa, I should not instantly assume every guy is flirting with me when they’re just maybe—staring. It’s disconcerting, though, because even if I’ve never met Jon Snow before, he looks at me like he knows me very well. But maybe Robb is just popular. Even Sam from Hornhill knows him. Maybe, that’s just the case with Jon, too.

Or Maybe… Jon plays for the other team. Gosh, I hope not. Such pretty, pretty man would make all the girls mourn for their loss.


	3. Chapter 3

Castle Black is the farthest villa in Casterly Rock. We had to take a shuttle to get there. It’s almost at the tip of the resort, far from the lobby, and the main amenities. I feel a tinge of jealousy towards Theon whose roommate said their villa is located by the hot springs. Pyp says that the Red Keep Villa where the Lions reside has a swimming pool of their own. It was also the largest one. The Falcons in The Eyrie is located at the highest point of Casterly Rock, and has a beautiful panoramic view of the city. The Storm’s End villa of the Gazelles was near the Whirlpool waterpark and High Garden Villa was located in the heart of the botanical garden. Castle Black looks like a shack instead of a villa, and apparently, it’s the only villa without any special features, unless you count the tall periphery wall behind us. 

Pyp senses my disappointment and sighs. “Welcome to The Wall.”

I spot Jon Snow behind the crowd. His frown deepens when he sees the villa. The large red-haired man beyond him curses underneath his thick beard.

We move into our rooms, dragging our belongings with us. Sam’s rooming with Edd and Grenn and Pyp are together. They both occupy the room on the ground floor along with another pair of roommates. 

Our assigned room in the second floor is narrow but long. The beds are at the end of the room, closely leaning against the left and right wall. There’s only a yard in between the beds, which is a terrible configuration because it’s so close to one another.

I drag my suitcase into the room, and the wooden planks creak. I wonder if people really rent this room, because it doesn’t give off the five-star hotel ambience that Casterly Rock promised to offer. I feel like Robb, along with the other delegates housed in this villa is robbed.

Jon enters behind me. He sets his backpack on left bed and sets his things down at its foot. He gives me that eager look again and I can’t figure out what that meant. I feel really anxious and awkward, so I avoid his gaze and pretend to be smoothing and refolding my clothes as I unpack them. The room is enveloped in an awkward silence without any of us attempting to try to break the ice. I can hear Jon’s continuous sighing and I wonder if it’s his disappointment of our room assignment.

I bring my eyes to him and I see his gentle eyes shifted into a frown and he looks at me as if he’s expecting me to do something, so I stare back at him with puckered brows, trying to dissect his sudden dissent.

 

“I’m Robb Stark.” I say in a deep masculine voice I can muster. I realize my legs are crossed on the floor like a girl, so I open them widely like a man and I feel exposed, even though it’s normal for guys’ legs to be spread open.

“I know.” Jon Snow says coldly and turns his head away.

“So, where are you from, Jon Snow?” I chirp, trying to shake off his cold shoulder with kindness.

Jon Snow lips curled slightly in a frown, but he says nothing and ignores me. I feel like an idiot waiting for him to say anything. It turns out he’s not planning to. So, I return to folding my clothes, still bothered by his strange behavior. He has this certain coldness in him that’s really ticking my nerves but I should not judge. Maybe he’s just uncomfortable around strangers. I know people like my younger brother Bran for example, who prefers their little bubble of solitude and takes a while to warm up to other people. Maybe, Jon’s just an extreme case of introversion.

We hear a knock on the door and I bolt to my feet to get it.

“Hey Robb!” It’s Sam with his smiley face. “The guys and I are getting refreshments at the bar. Would you care to join us?”

“Yeah, sure.” I say almost immediately. I wanted to get away from the nimbus cloud that is Jon Snow.

“And how about you, Jon?” Sam calls out. 

Jon approaches the door with his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, why not?” 

I didn’t expect him to break into a warm smile at Sam. He doesn’t look like he’s capable of happiness.

We walk to the main resort even if it is really far from our villa and we could have could've taken a shuttle. We pass by Winterfell along our way and I feel jealous of Theon and remorseful at Robb. While I’m staying in a dumpster with a somber roommate, Theon is staying at a beautiful rustic villa made of stones and a seemingly friendly roommate named Ramsay Bolton. I hear from Pyp that Winterfell has a nice courtyard with a Weeping Willow tree in the middle of it. At night, the Willow Tree glows in red as they turn the LED lights on.

Jon easily eases in to the conversation with Grenn, Pyp and Edd. He’s really friendly with Sam and even jokes around with the bearded man Tormund, who I still find intimidating. I am wrong about Jon Snow. He isn't socially inept, he is just selectively cold towards me. 

Pyp makes a quip about Grenn and everyone laughs, including Jon. Edd makes a sarcastic comment and Jon laughs, too. I say a really funny joke that I heard from Robb before and everyone guffaws but Jon. I feel like he doesn’t like me at all, and I wonder what I ever did to offend him.

We arrive at the bar and there’s a buffet of treats ready. They’re also serving all kinds of refreshments. There’s coconut juice, orange juice, lemon, iced tea, coffee and tea. I see a plate of lemon cakes on the buffet table and I’m so happy that I almost forget about the unfortunate events that happened today.

We join the rest of our teammates who have already arrived by shuttle. They were already wearing their Crow jacket.

“I’m Satin.” An attractive curly-haired boy introduces himself. “I play the 1 and 2.”

“I’m Cotter.” The thin blond man says beside him. He points to his other teammates. “This is Gared and Finn.”

Finn probably stands more than six and a half feet. He is probably the tallest one in the team. The brown-haired boy Gared looks shy and solemn but he has a strong and athletic build.

 

“That’s a lot of lemon cakes on your plate.” Sam smiles as we settle on our seats. I glance at his plate and it’s even fuller than mine with assorted treats. He probably got one from each plate.

“I really like lemon cakes. I wonder if I can sneak some to our room.” I beam at Sam.

“I can do that for you, if you want.” Cotter volunteers.

"Do you want to get in trouble with your parole officer, Cotter?" Gared says.

"It's just lemon cakes, geez." The blonde man rolls his eyes.

 

“Would you look at that?” Pyp stares at someone and looks dumbfounded. We all follow his gaze.

Queuing at the buffet table is a large muscular woman, taller than any woman I’ve ever seen before. Her pale blonde hair and pale complexion are washed out by the canary shade of her jersey jacket. Her back says Tarth and number 3 underneath it.

“That’s a woman, right?” Asked Grenn.

“Obviously, dumbo.” Pyp tells him.

“I can’t believe they allowed a woman to play for the Gazelles.” Edd comments in disbelief.

“But look at the size of her.” Pyp says in astonishment. “Must be over six feet.”

Tormund’s jaws drops and he doesn’t tear his gaze away from the woman. “What’s her name?”

“Wait, let me ask.” Pyp stands up from his seat. It’s not the woman he approaches but her teammates in yellow and brown. 

“His name’s Brienne.” Pyp announces when he returns to his seat. “Brienne Tarth. Apparently, she plays the Center. She’s going to be up against you then, Tormund.”

“Brienne,” Tormund repeats slowly. When she passes by our table to join her Gazelle teammates, Tormund catcalls her. Poor Brienne docks her head and blushes, rejoining her teammates who are also poking fun at her. Our table joins the laughter. Everyone's laughing except Jon and me.

Later, a dark bespectacled man approaches our table. “Hello, everyone, my name’s Monty. I’m one of the organizers of this event.” He proudly shows of the logo of the event: Game of Zones in bold Helvetica letters embroidered in black on his white polo shirt.

“Is this all of you?” He asks.

“Yeah.” Sam answers. “We have the fewest number of members. Most of the teams have fifteen but we’ve only got 11 members.”

Monty counts eleven brochures from his arms and distributes it to the table. “In that brochure, you’ll find your team schedule. The program will consist of drills, practices and lectures. You’re free to do whatever you want during your free time. You can use all the resort’s amenities. Well, except the Club House, that's reserved exclusively by the Lions. Snacks and refreshments will be served every day from 9 to 10 in the morning and 4 to 5 in the afternoon. Breakfast is served at 6am to 8am, lunch at 12 noon to 2 pm and dinner at 7pm. 

“If you have any questions, our contact details are at the back of the brochure or you may approach anyone of us.”

Before Monty leaves, I raise my hand. “Is there a better villa than Castle Black that we can transfer to?”

Everyone nods. They seem to share my sentiments when it comes to the room assignments.

“I’m sorry, but Casterly Rock’s fully-booked. Why? Is something wrong with your room? Is the roof leaking or is the toilet not flushing properly?”

“No, but—“

“Then, I don't see a problem with it.” Monty says unsympathetically and rushes to the next table sporting green jerseys.

“Hey, Barristan Selmy’s coming in on Tuesday.” Sam enthuses as he reads through the schedule. “He’s my favorite basketball player ever. He’s legendary.”

“Oh, I want to get an autograph from him!” Satin says. “Remember the time he scored a triple double during the finals? That was the most epic game he played.”

“No, the one where he scored fifty points against the Duskendales was more amazing.” Pyp says.

“When he was a rookie, he lead the ‘Kings’ team to the playoffs.” 

“Shit.” Their Which-Barristan-Selmy-moment-was-most-epic debate was interrupted by Edd, looking grimmer than ever. 

“What’s wrong Dolorous Edd?” Grenn inquires.

“Check out our schedule for next week.”

Everyone flips through their schedule.

“We have practice games in the basketball court located outdoors from 10 to 1 pm, and remember that lunch is served only from 12 to 2.” Edd explains.

“The food will be cold by the time we finish.” I grimaced.

“That’s not the worst part of it though.” Edd says. “Since it’s summer, the sun will be at its highest peak at 12. That means we’re all barbecue.”

Everyone’s faces around the room sours. The only expression that did not change was Jon Snow’s, since it was always resting tartly anyway.

“That’s a good thing I brought my spf 60 sunblock. I was excited to try it.” Sam says optimistically, but unlike him, the other members of the team are disheartened. First, the organizers gave us the crappiest villa and now they’re giving us the crappiest schedule, too.

We have the rest of the day free, before the grueling training begins. Grenn suggests we go swimming and everyone’s on board, except me. As much as I want to take advantage of the wonderful resort amenities, swimming’s a really, really bad idea. I can’t go out with swimming trunks, not even if I have a rushguard on. And my wig can’t get wet either. My teammates protest and call me a killjoy, so I feign having a terrible headache. They bought my excuse when I told them that I came from a long trip and had to rest.

To my surprise, Jon Snow also declines and tells them he has to finish unpacking. Grenn and Edd leaves grumbling. I’m sure we didn’t make a really good impression to them.

Jon Snow and I take a shuttle back to our villa. He doesn’t say anything, but he ogles like he’s waiting to say something and it’s making me tick. What’s the deal with this guy? I only have just met him and he acts as if he hates me. The shuttle passes by Winterfell once more and I hear the laughter erupting inside. Theon must be having the time of his life right now, while I feel like I’m tiptoeing in ice.

When we finally arrive, I decide to finally address the elephant in the room.

“Jon Snow, do you have a problem with me?”

He looks surprised at me for a moment and then he scowls. “Robb, you’re the one who’s pretending you do not know me. I should be the one asking you that.” He addresses me with so much familiarity as if we knew each other before.

“What?” I croak in surprisee. 

“I know we only knew each other for a short while.” Jon says softly. “But during those times, I thought you as my best friend. I can’t believe it was easy for you to forget. Or are you still mad at me because I stopped writing to you?”

Oh my God! My heart leaps in fright. What just happened? What do I do? I’m lost. Did he just say he’s my best friend? I meant Robb’s best friend?

I am dialing my phone for Robb’s number in my head. I am trying to send a mental telepathy message to Theon at Winterfell. But there’s nothing both of them can do right now. I take a deep breath and remember the voice of my acting teacher in Theatre arts. 

“Of course, Jon Snow. I remember you. I always remember you.” I say almost too theatrically. But Jon’s frown soften, so I guess my acting’s believable. “I remember of course, back in the days.” I try to keep it up. “Yeah back in the days. Man, those times are amazing. Yeah, I remember of course.” I add a little punch to his shoulders, because that’s what old friends do, right?

 

“Oh, Robb.” Jon Snow releases a sigh of relief and begins to laugh. “You fool me. Man, you’re such a prankster, just like before. I thought you were mad at me or that you have completely forgotten about me."

Jon Snow slaps the back of my shoulders really hard. His hands are really heavy, but I manage to laugh the ‘Robb’ way. I believe my impersonation was on point.

“So, how long has it been?” I ask a safe question, hoping to lure out more information from him. “When was the last time I saw you?”

“It has almost been ten years, I think.” Jon Snow replies. He exhales as he stares blankly into space. “Remember those times we would create a makeshift sled in the snow and then my dog Ghost would pull us both? Those were good old days.”

“Yeah, I remember. Good ol’ days.” I pretend to get nostalgic on a memory I don’t have. “Remember those crazy times when you were—“ think of something, Sansa. Anything that seven-year old Robb would do. “you know when you were crazy and we were like you know? Like when we were crazy. Those were the days, right?”

I'm not sure if I make sense, but Jon Snow chuckles. "I know right."

No, Jon Snow. You know nothing.

“I can’t believe we would see each other again.” Jon says in disbelief as he puts his arm on my shoulder. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds, indeed?” I force a smile, then I break it, cue the strained eye contact. “Ouch!”

“Are you okay?” 

“A sudden migraine, that’s all.” I wince. “I’d love to chat about those good ol’ days, Jon, but I need to rest—ow!” I massage my temples and crease my forehead in the process.

“Yes. Yes. I remember you mentioned about a headache earlier. I’m sorry for getting in the way of your rest. ” Jon looks concerned. “I won’t bother you anymore. You need your energy for tomorrow’s training. The first few days are going to be intense, especially since they want to build our endurance and stamina.”

“Thank you, Jon.” I quickened to my bed and pull the covers above my face. I’m not really sleepy, but I prefer to be buried here than to be forced to lie to Jon Snow. I can already feel my nose growing long like Pinocchio. Lying is the easy part, but dealing with my conscience after is not. 

Although I’m only pretending to be sick, my stomach lurches at the thought of what’s ahead of me. So far, I’ve survived a day without Theon or Robb, I’ve survived it despite being assigned to the worst villa and the worst team in the program, I’ve survived Jon Snow for now, but I’m not so sure I can survive the next days and the physical training that’s yet to come.

 

.


	4. Chapter 4

“So, how are you doing?”

Theon spots me queueing for breakfast. He’s sporting his blue-grey jacket with grey sleeves and striped silver and blue trimmings, a wolf sigil is embroidered on his left chest and his jersey number 8 is etched below it.

My jersey jacket’s too wide for me and too loose. The measurements were Robb’s, but it’s perfect this way, so my boobs won’t have to be bounded too tightly and they can relax. My jacket is all black, but not the shiny kind of black, more like lusterless black, the color of charcoal. The trimmings have a very thin strand of white unlike the tricolored combination of the other team’s. The Crow logo at the left side of the chest and the number below it is printed and not embroidered. 

“Do you know about Jon Snow?” I ask Theon.

“You mean Robb’s playmate in grade school?”

“Oh, so you know about him?”

“Only cause’ Robb’s mentioned him a few times to me before.” Theon answers. I realize how little I know about Robb because I don’t recall Robb mentioning someone named Jon Snow before, or maybe, I just don’t pay too much attention to him as his certain endeavors never interest me. I think since I started high school, we drifted apart. We both belong to different circle of friends and his popularity among my girlfriends causes me to disassociate myself from him. I don’t think I even remember the last time Robb and I had a heart to heart talk, except that one time I opened up to him about Joffrey, but that only happened because I had no one else to turn to.

“Well, too bad Robb’s missing this reunion.” I say. “As fate would have it, I’m sharing a room with Jon Snow.”

“What a weird coincidence.” Theon says.

“Oh, and he claims to be Robb’s best friend.”

Theon frowns, “Well, I’m Robb’s best friend now.” There's a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“But Jon was too. Way, way before you.”

“Which one is he there?” Theon looks back curiously at the Crows’ table.

“The one with the dark curly hair.”

“Where?”

“The brooding one beside the fat one.”

“Oh, that guy!” Theon bobs his head. “What’s up with his hair? Is he auditioning as One Direction’s replacement for Zayn or is he here for the basketball workshop?”

“His curls are all right. He looks quite okay, too.” I consider and Theon shoots a raised brow in my direction.

“Oh. Someone’s happy with the room arrangements.” He smiles teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“What? No!” I say defensively. “I’m just saying, Theon. I mean you can’t deny that the guy is quite a looker, but it’s not like I’m going to do anything about it.”

“Why are you so defensive?”

“I'm not defensive. Just shut up.” I hiss.

Theon throws his back in laughter.

“Anyway, how about you? How do you like your roommate?”

“Oh, Ramsay? He’s awesome.” Theon enthuses. “We’re so much alike. We both like Coldplay, Lord of the Rings, Warcraft and guess what? We both play Shooting Guards, too and we gave each other tips and pointers last night.”

“Good for you, I guess.” I say begrudgingly. 

“Theon, you know I’m really nervous about the drills. I’m not Robb, you know. I can’t play as well as him. I played basketball but that was before high school and I haven’t touched a basketball ever since I held pompoms.”

“Yes, that’s a bit of an issue, too.” Theon acknowledges. He frowns deeply. “Shit, we really didn’t think this through, huh?”

I blink at Theon. “Theon, it has never occurred to you that just because I dress and look like Robb, doesn’t mean that I can play like him?”

Theon ignores my sarcasm. “But I’m sure you’ll do well. You’ll make it through. You’re a cheerleader, so I think you’re athletic enough. Maybe? And you’re a Stark, it’s like the wolf blood runs in you.”

“And yet I’m playing for the Crows. What irony!” 

“Yeah,” Theon winces. His frown acknowledges how bad the Crows were. “I heard that last year, the team did so horribly that they sidelined their coach. But lucky you, Jeor Mormont who was the Wolves’ coach last year is coaching you now. I’m sure your team’s going to do better than before.” Theon offers a smile, but it doesn’t appease me.

“Theon, I’m nervous.” I confess. “I’m not a good player. I don’t think I can even dribble properly. I only know how to stand in the corner to shoot. Shooting is the only thing I probably know about basketball. How do you expect me to fare?”

“Don’t worry.” Theon assures. “The first few days will be dedicated to drills. They’ll teach us basics, although I don’t think I need any more reinforcements on that matter.” He says smugly. “But if you’ll try to be a fast-learner, maybe you can keep up.”

I open my mouth to protest but we were interrupted.

“THEON, HERE!” Ramsey waves his hands from the Wolves table. He pats the seat next to him.

“I should sit with my teammates,” says Theon apologetically. “You should bond with yours, too.”

I sigh as I watch Theon rejoin his team. He is as useless and as complacent as ever. When I come to him for help, all he does is gives me words of reassurance and meaningless advice when what I really need is a concrete solution. 

 

After breakfast, we head to our first encounter, a lecture on fundamental basketball terms and strategies. This is the kind of activity where everyone attends. The delegates all sit with each other’s teammates. I can spot Joffrey at the very front with all the Lions in red and gold jersey jackets. Brienne Tarth of Team Gazelle towers over her teammates and I see Theon at the left wing, chattering with his new best friend Ramsey Bolton. No one ever gives a care about us Crows, so we sit at the farthest end of the hall after all teams have settled. 

The guest speaker is a coach of a professional basketball team, Brynden Tully. He’s an old man past his sixties, but he still look as robust as ever. He opens his discussion with a small anecdote of him during his prime.

I’m right about myself. Shooting is the only skill I know about basketball. Tully talks about other skills like setting picks, getting off screens, calling for pick and rolls, posting up. As he gives us tips and pointers, I only pretend to understand. Sam, who is beside me is taking down notes diligently and nodding at the speaker so much like a bobble head. When Tully asks for anyone who can explain the ‘Triangle offense’, a popular strategy employed by the Chicago Bulls under Phil Jackson’s tutelage, Sam’s hand shoots up. His eloquent explanation impresses the coach that he rewards Sam with a Chicago Bulls baseball cap.

Later in the afternoon, we go to the gym and it isn’t Coach Mormont who greets us but a stern looking man tapping his foot impatiently.

“Line up by height.” He growls and we scramble to find our place. “Faster ladies!” The man snaps as we hurried into a single line.

He shakes his heads as Satin and Pyp stumbles into the line. “Look at you, a bunch of losers, a bunch of outcasts and rejects.”

Everyone shifts uncomfortably, but no one answers back. No matter how rude, the man was right. We are a bunch of outcasts and rejects. Most of us are here because the other teams overlooked us. Tormund and Cotter, I heard, come from juvie and are sponsored to attend this event as part of their formative integration. And Robb submitted his application late and Gared, I heard just came back from a major injury. I don’t know why Jon Snow is here, but among all of us, he’s the only one who truly looked the part of the athlete.

“Where’s Coach Mormont?” Jon asks.

“He has emergency personal matters to attend to. For the mean time, I will be filling up for him. I am Coach Alliser Thorne, the substitute coach.”

Jon Snow frowns at the news and Coach Thorne was quick to notice. “You think I’m happy being stuck with losers like you? Well, let’s just say the feeling’s mutual.”

He flips through his clipboard and walks along our line, scrutinizing each player’s faces and checking on his data sheet.

“Tarly, step up.” Sam moves forward. He flushes pink in nervousness. 

“Yes sir!”

“My god, you’re as large as a barge?” Thorne sneers. His face is grim with malice. “Tell me, how heavy do you weigh? 300 pounds?” Sam turns really red at the question. Jon, beside me stirs. I notice him clenching his fists tightly. 

“Are you sure you’re fit for this course? This is no place for someone like you. You wouldn’t survive a day with that fat ass of yours.”

“Ummm,” Sam stutters.

 

“Give me 10 laps, boy. Burn those calories. My god, there should be a law against fat people like you.” Thorne barks at Sam. Sam turns really red and conceals the embarrassment by forcing a smile. I feel really bad for him. No one laughs with Thorne when he comments about Sam’s bouncing belly. If there should be a new law passed, it should be against mean people like Thorne.

 

“Stark!” I snap out of trance when my name is called. 

Thorne scrutinizes me from head to toe and I brace myself for a barrage of insults.

“You’re frail as a girl. Do you even lift?”

Well, technically I do. I mean grocery bags and shopping bags got to count right?

“Yes.”

Thorne flips through the clipboard. “In your application form, you said here that you’re six feet tall,” He circles around me as he inspects me. “You don’t look like six feet to me.”

I gulp and stretch my neck to appear taller. Robb is six feet tall; I’m about 3 inches shorter.

“Were you lying in your resume, boy?”

“I—I… No, sir.”

“Then why does it say here that you’re six feet tall, but we both know you’re not. Do you want me to get a ruler, boy?”

“Umm, no sir.”

“Run and give me 10 laps, you lying cunt!”

I flinch at the moniker he gives. He’s one rude bully. Is this how basketball players are coached to instill discipline? Being berated like this?

“I—“ I open my mouth to respond.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?”

I jump on my feet and start my run.

I follow Sam and because his pace is slow, I manage to catch up to him. We haven’t reach halfway a lap, yet he is already panting.

“Are you okay, Sam?”

“Uhuh.” Sam manages with a smile. I jog beside him to help him keep up. The rest of the team are split in twos or threes and starts doing basic basketball drills.

By the end of the second lap, Sam’s knees are on the verge of giving up. He kneels to the ground and plants his palms on the floor, gasping for air.

“Get your fat ass up, you lazy cow!” Thorne yaps as he nudge Sam’s legs with his foot.

“Sir, I don’t think he can—“

“Shut up, Stark! Finish your laps or I’ll add 10 more.”

 

Sam’s arms are quivering. His sweat pools on the ground beneath his face.

I look at Sam with pity as Thorne yells at him to get up. I wish I can help but honestly I can’t do another 10 more laps. Hesitantly, I start on my feet to resume my running.

“Sir, please stop.” I hear Jon Snow’s voice and I pause for a minute on my tracks.

“Excuse me?” Thorne scowls menacingly at the young man. “And who are you to tell me what to do? What’s your name, boy?”

“Jon Snow, sir.” he answers. 

“Oh, Jon Snow.” Thorne puts his hands on his waist and lifts his chin up high. “I see. You’re last year’s Rookie of the Year. No wonder you look familiar. And no wonder you are arrogant. Have you forgotten your place, boy? Who are you to undermine me, the coach of your pathetic team?

“Substitute coach, sir.” Jon Snow corrects. “The Wolves knows only one coach whose name is Jeor Mormont.”

 

Alliser Thorne’s face turns stone cold. 

“Why you, bastard…” He charges towards Jon Snow and I want to scream at him to run. I thought Thorne was going to hit Jon, and I sigh in relief when he just stops in front of him.

“Let us see how tough you are.” Thorne raises his eyebrows. “Stark, how many laps have Tarly done?”

“Two, sir.”

“Eight more laps then.” Thorne ponders. “Snow, you will finish Tarly’s last laps.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wait a minute, I’m not yet done.” Thorne says after Jon readies his feet. “You will do Tarly’s eight laps, but you will also give me 50 more for your defiance.”

There’s whispers and murmurs among the team. If I were to do 58 laps around four full size basketball courts, I might as well commit suicide. But Jon’s resolve on the matter doesn’t waver. He starts on his feet and when he goes past me, I feel guilty I chose not to stand up for Sam. I follow Jon closely behind, and as I stare at his back, I’m filled with so much admiration for my roommate.


	5. Chapter 5

Thorne dismisses us early, but he doesn’t let Jon go until he finishes his laps. A while later, Jon finds us in the restaurant. He’s drenched in sweat as if he just emerged from the swimming pool. His curls are messily clinging on his face. There are minor tremors in his walk like he’s afraid of breaking the ground. His limbs shake noticeably as he breathes in and out sharply. As he collapses beside Sam, he expels the heaviest sigh one can muster.

Sam pats his back gratefully. His eyes are pooling with tears threatening to fall. 

“Respect.” Tormund salutes him and almost everyone does as well. Tormund cups the back of Jon’s head. “I like you, boy. You’re really tough.”

“I’m sorry, Jon.” Sam says apologetically. “You shouldn’t have stood up for me.”

“It’s okay, Sam.” Jon replies. “I can’t just let Thorne talk at you like that.”

“He’s such a prick.” Edd grimaces. 

“He’s always been a prick.” Pyp replies. “Last year, he coached ‘The Crows’, as well. I think he likes to think he coaches with an iron fist when it reality, he’s just being a dick.”

“I don’t mind if he’s strict with the regime.” Gared says. “My high school coach is known to be very strict as well. We’d do fifty pushups before practice begins, but he doesn’t degrade us or call us names.”

“What say you? Want me to take care of that dickhead?” Tormund gestures a knife around is throat.

“Tormund!” Cotter exclaims. “Officer Mance Rayder wouldn’t want you to do any of that sort.”

I reach out to Sam across the table and place my hand on his arm. “Sam, I’m really sorry. I wasn’t able to stand up to you. I want you to know that I would have if I was physically capable of doing so.”

Sam shakes his head considerately. “Robb, you don’t have to apologize. It’s my fault I’m fat.”

Sam’s self-pity makes me guiltier. He’s such a nice and affable guy. He shouldn’t be treated like a pig to be slaughtered. 

I rise from my chair, almost abruptly that everyone shoots up to look at me.

“Where are you going?” Pyp asks.

“You’ll see.” I wink.

I may not be as athletic as Robb, but I have a special talent that Robb doesn’t have. Being on the honor roll, I’ve become well renowned in the faculty and a friendly face to Cynthia, the snob principal’s secretary who has taken a liking to me because of the power of my compliments. My connections have helped me get my favors across to the principal and helped me get away with the compulsory community service. I have good talents in courtesies and diplomacy; they’re useful feats in dealing with beaurocracy and organizations. 

I stroll across the restaurant, finding Mr. Ryan Clarkson, the head organizer. ¬¬¬His profile is familiar from the brochure Mr. Monty gave and from the looks of him: his neatly cropped hair, expensive Rolex watch and impeccably white pair of shoes, I can tell that he is vain man.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Clarkson.” I say courteously. “I can’t help but notice those really nice pair of shoes you’re wearing.”

Mr. Clarkson looks up from his cell phone and smiles at me. “Why, thank you for noticing. These are the Air Jordan 11 limited edition. It’s one of my favorite pairs.”

I pretend to be fascinated with it. “They’re so classy and smart. I bet you are, too. You know what they all say, ‘You can tell a lot about a man just by looking at his shoes or the watch he’s wearing. Nice Rolex by the way.”

Mr. Clarkson beams proudly at himself and then he looks at me curiously. “What’s your name, kid?” Good, I got his attention.

“Oh, I’m Robb Stark, sir, from Team Crows. I have a question about my team. I was wondering when Coach Mormont will be back?”

“Oh, Coach Mormont. He will be back by next week. He just had matters to discuss with the Front Office of the professional team he’s coaching, something regarding about their decision to trade his son Jorah for draft picks to a team in the Eastern Conference. Mormont was against it, but if you ask for my opinion, I would have traded the guy off. Veteran or not, son or not, the fact is he’s aging and for a rebuilding team like the Bears, you need to bring in younger talents. But for the meantime, Coach Alliser Thorne is going to take over. He’s coached the Crows last year, I know he’s competent enough.”

“Thanks for clarifying that, Mr. Clarkson. It was wonderful meeting you.”

“Not a problem.” Clarkson nods.

I turn a heel to leave but I pause and then turn back. “Oh, and one last thing, Mr. Clarkson. Is it normal for coaches to kick their players on the legs when they couldn’t perform drills anymore? Is it also normal for them to call players names? I mean, Cunt and bastard are really endearing terms, are they not? I’m not sure if that’s Coach Thorne’s methods that deems him ‘competent enough’,—I don’t know. But if my father, who was former governor of the North finds out about how he’s mistreating his players, I’m not sure he will like it.”

Mr. Clarkson’s smile faded. His brows knit with concern. “Oh, Is that so? Well, thanks for shedding light on the matter, Mr. Stark. I will take into consideration your concerns.”

“Thank you Mr. Clarkson. You are ever so kind.”

I go back to the table with a triumphant smile on my face and everyone looks at me with curiosity.

“Who was that guy you were talking to?” Asks Pyp.

“Fred Clarkson, he’s the main organizer of the event.” 

“How do you know that?”

“It was on the brochure.”

“So, what did you tell him?” Satin inquires.

“I told him about our sentiments with Thorne, that none of us are too happy with him.”

Pyp smirks knowingly. “That’s not going to work. Do you think we didn’t report Thorne last year?”

“Did you speak to Mr. Clarkson directly about it?”

Pyp shakes his head. “But we told one of the organizers.”

“Not the head organizer, though.” I point out. “And I also bet none of you told them you were the son of a former governor, too.”

“You’re the son of a former governor?!” Grenn exclaims.

I meet Jon Snow’s confused eyes. “Your dad ran for office? I thought that was your uncle.”

“Yeah, it was my uncle, alright.” I chuckle softly. “But Mr. Clarkson wouldn’t know that. What he know is I’m a Stark, so if he looks that up, he’ll automatically assume.”

Everyone looks at me impressed, except Tormund who seems distracted.

Just then, Brienne Tarth passes by our table, looking flushed and sweaty from her workout or practice.

Tormund follows her with his gaze. Brienne doesn’t fail to notice that. She shrugs when she meets his eyes. Disturbed, she averts his eyes from the bearded man, frowning as she does so.

“Do you like Brienne, Tormund?”

My questions make the table explode in fits of laughter. Even Jon Snow who was too exhausted for his own good cracks a smile.

Tormund raises his hands defensively. “What the fuck, Stark? No!”

“Don’t try to deny it, Tormund. I promise I won’t judge.”

Tormund turns redder than his beard. He opens his mouth to protest, but it just hang open wordlessly. 

“Tormund, if you want to flirt with Brienne, that’s not the way you should do it.” I say. “Girls don’t like it when men stare at them like they’re some piece of meat. Girls find that really weird and disturbing.”

“Unless you look like Jon Snow, it probably would’ve worked.” Edd mutters and I don’t disagree with what he said.

“The technique is…” I begin and it isn’t only Tormund who leans forward to me. The rest of the table, even Gared, Cotter and Finn who were caught up in their own conversation turns to me to listen. 

“Well, you approach the girl, offer her your hand and introduce yourself casually.”

Pyp knits his brows. “Just like that? No pick up line or something.”

“No pickup line.”

“Maybe if you look like Jon Snow, pickup lines would work.” Edd mutters again and I silently agree with him. 

“Then, you pay her a compliment.” I continue. “If she’s wearing a nice pair of shoes. Tell her she’s wearing a nice pair of shoes. If she tells you her name, tell her it’s a nice name. Whatever you do, don’t ever make a quip about her boobs or her ass even if they’re really nice. That automatically turns her off.

And then, you make small talk: about the weather, about the place. Then you ask her about herself. What are her hobbies? What are her favorite movies? What kind of songs does she listen to? Try to find any common ground with her. You can use that to your advantage later.”

Everyone is nodding at me attentively, especially Tormund whose mouth is agape once again. Sam repeats my tips to himself, trying to make mental note of them and Pyp scratches his head.

“That’s a lot of work.”

“What do you expect?” I arch an eyebrow at Pyp. “Women aren’t supposed to be easy and you’re not supposed to treat them like game either.”

“How do you know all these things?” Grenn asks curiously. “How many women have you dated before?”

The table huddles in closer.

“A lot?” I say without thinking. 

“Wow.” Pyp looks at me with reverence. “And tell me how many of them have you bedded?”

“What?” I instantly withdraw from our circle. 

“Did you get to…” Tormund makes an obscene gesture with his hips.

“How did you do it?” Grenn pushes Edd’s face aside to get closer to me. 

“Umm…” I scan around for an escape. I wish at this moment I can make myself invisible with a snap of a finger. I feel the weight of everyone’s stare at me and I’m pressured to give an answer.

“Stick it with the pointy end?” I shrug and the guys cheer like I’m some sort of hero. 

“I dated this girl once,” Finn speaks up. “Man was she hot. She had really big bonkers and a really nice ass.”

“Oh, what was she like?”

“Freaky under the sheets I tell you.”

“You should see this blonde cheerleader in my school.” Grenn says. “Whenever she does a backflip, they would juggle like this.” Grenn cups his hands in the air and shifts them up and down. The guys all snicker.

“Did you meet the Peer Facilitator? I think her name was Melissandre or something.” Pyp asks the group. “Fuck she’s hot. Maybe one of these days, I’ll pretend to be homesick so I can schedule an appointment with her.”

“Have you gotten it on with a woman, Pyp?” Edd asks.

“Well, of course I have.” Pyp says ardently. 

“Well, you look like a virgin starved to death. Hard to believe it.” Edd says mockingly.

“Didn’t they tell you Edd, it’s not about the size but the way you use it?” Pyp says.

“Then you do admit to having a small pecker?” Tormund points out and the guys hollered. Pyp’s large ears turns scarlet.

“So, Tormund, are you going to stick Brienne with your pointy end?” Pyp jests. “Or is she going to stick your ass with hers?”

Jon Snow slams his fist on the table, silencing everyone and erasing all theirsmiles. “I won’t have you talk about Brienne or any other woman like that, Pyp. How would you like it if guys talk about your mother that way?”

I honestly want to fling my arms at Jon Snow and shower him with kisses. I think at that very moment, I feel as if cupid struck me with his arrows. I turn to Jon Snow and see him more brightly than before as if someone casted a spot light on him.

Pyp shrinks under his seat. “Geez, Snow, we were just having fun. It’s not serious or anything.”

“Then joke about something else instead.” Jon Snow’s voice was deep and almost commanding. The table freezes in silence.

“So,” Sam breaks the tension with his dolphin-like voice. “Who’s up for some pickup game? I think the court is free.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” Tormund stands up instantly. “I came here to play basketball but so far they’ve only given us bullshit.”

The guys rise from the seat one after the other. 

“I’ll pass for now.” Jon says. “I’m exhausted.”

“Of course, Jon. You should rest.” Sam nods understandingly. “How about you, Robb? Aren’t you going to join us?”

Unlike Tormund, I’d rather take the bullshit the organizers are giving us than play basketball and be exposed as a fraud. “I’m also exhausted myself.” I smile at Sam. 

“Okay then.” Sam nods as he follows the guys outside the restaurant.

When it’s just Jon and me left, I take Sam’s seat next to him. I find a few moments to collect my thoughts. I’m feeling something weird towards Jon. I can’t understand it yet, but it’s familiar.

I clear my throat to break the piercing silence. “You know, Jon? I really appreciate you standing up for Sam and for Brienne. I honestly thought guys like you don’t exist anymore. I thought chivalry was dead.”

Jon glares at me icily that I’m taken aback and I’m reminded that I’m not Sansa but Robb. 

“I honestly thought you would call them out, Robb.” Jon shakes his head in disappointment. “You were the one who first told me that women should be treated with respect. Don’t you have sisters of your own? How do you think they would feel if Pyp and the rest talk about them like they did with Brienne? Do you think they would like it?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

 

I feel a lump in my throat. I’m so ashamed with myself. I told people in school that I’m a feminist; my twitter is full of retweets from Emma Watson’s quotes on feminism and I write about women’s rights on the school paper. Yet here I am, as a man, and I just stooped to their level, and I just laughed with them, and I allowed a fellow woman to be insulted in front of me. I am such a hypocrite.

When Jon stands up to walk out on me, I feel as if I had just been slapped hard. But I know that I deserve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would gladly appreciate your comments. I'd love to know how you enjoy this story so far. :D


	6. Chapter 6

Instead of taking the shuttle, I decide to walk from the restaurant back to Castle Black. On my way, I spot Brienne under the shade of a tree by the riverside close to Villa Riverrun. She’s buried in a book, resting under the hammock set up between two oak trees.

I am still shaken by what Jon Snow said to me that I feel myself obliged to say something to Brienne. So, instead of heading straight to the Neck, I make a beeline for the river.

“Hello,” I say as I approach Brienne. “My name is Robb Stark from Team Crow.”

Brienne lifts her eyes from her book and raises her eyebrows suspiciously. “I’m Brienne Tarth and yes, I’m a woman. If you have a problem with that, that doesn’t concern you, so do yourself a favor and piss off.”

She was quick to reply and quick to shut me down. I can understand. She builds a wall for herself faster than you can say hello. She must’ve grown up fending off bullies because she looks different. 

“You have it wrong, Brienne.” I say. “I’m not here to make fun of you. I’m actually here to apologize for the way my teammates acted towards you.”

The sharpness of Brienne’s gaze softens. 

“I’m sorry about their behavior towards you, Brienne. Most of them are desperate boys, who have no idea how to talk to girls properly. You know, boys are so stupid.”

“Yes, they are.” Brienne’s thick lips curled into a smile. 

“You know, I know how you feel. I know what it feels like to be objectified.”  
.   
Brienne’s eyebrows furrow deeply and I realize my tongue slip out.

“I mean, I’m a man and we get objectified, too, you know.” I say almost quickly. “And I have two sisters, so I know their plight, too.”

“I don’t know where this is going.” Brienne crosses her arms around her chest and I notice the book she just closed.

“Oh my god! Is that Lean In by Sheryl Sandberg? I’ve been looking for that book since it came out!”

 

Brienne lifts the book in front of me. At first, she seems surprised that I know about the book. Then it probably crosses her mind that men read feminist books, too. 

“It’s very interesting.” Brienne says. “It’s about the umm... struggles of women in a male dominated office space. There’s this quote I particularly like…” Brienne scans through her book and spots the text she’s looking for. 

“A truly equal world would be one where women ran half our countries and companies and men ran half our homes.” When Brienne reads the line, I see that her eyes sparkle.

“That’s so true.” I nod in agreement with her. “Sexism is still prevalent, no matter ‘how modern’ society claims they become. There will always be a double standard. I myself cannot stand how society still portrays women as living objects. Take my sister’s case for example, when she turned fifteen and had grown out of her awkward adolescent phase, she would be followed by strange gazes from men—some even old enough to be our father.”

“You’re sister must be very pretty. It’s not the same in my case.” There’s a despondent tone in Brienne’s voice that makes me really sorry for her. She’s swimming in insecurities of herself.

“You may be different, Brienne, but in a good way. I envy you because you allow yourself to be yourself.”

Brienne allows herself a genuine smile. She’s actually pretty. She has a set of deep blue eyes and a set of really nice pearly whites. Maybe if we add a little bit of makeup to accentuate her already pretty features, and make her wear clothes to compliment her stature, she’s going to be a bombshell. I just know it.

“Do you know why I am here?” Brienne states. “I’m here to demonstrate my point. That men and women are equal and that there are some things men do that women can, too. That women are not just toys for men to play with.”

I beam at Brienne proudly. “You are a true inspiration to all the women out there, Brienne. You’ve proven to them that to be a woman, you need no man to complete you. I really admire your power.”

Brienne is taken aback by my compliment. At first her eyes searches mine for any hints of insincerity before she accepts my praise of her. 

“That’s so nice of you to say.” A blush forms in her cheeks when she notes my genuineness.

 

“Well, I’ll be on my way now, Brienne. It was really nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you, too. Until next time.” There’s a hint of optimism in Brienne’s voice. She may stand taller than most men, but she certainly is a woman at heart.

 

 

When I arrive in the room, I find Jon Snow lying on the bed. He’s texting someone on his phone, smiling to himself as he does. It makes me wonder if ever he has someone special back home. I feel a pang of jealousy, which I quickly shake off. I mean, why would I be jealous in the first place?

“Hey,” I move to my bed and sat across him. 

“Hey,” he looks up from his phone.

I feel compelled to know more things about him, but I’m not sure if we’re in that level of friendship yet. But I’m Robb, after all and as he claimed, he was my best friend. So, maybe my question won’t come off weird.

“Do you have a girlfriend back home?”

Jon Snow shrugs. I feel instantly relieved. But why, though? Does it matter to me if he has a girlfriend or not?

“You know, any girl would be happy to have a boyfriend like you.” 

Jon Snow looks at me as if I’ve said something wrong. I take it that he’s not good with receiving compliments.

“I was wondering, I don’t know if this is an appropriate question.” I say and Jon shifts on his side and lifts his head off with his hand supporting it. 

“Yeah?”

“How did you become so gallant? I’m wondering how you were raised by your parents. Your dad must have taught you well.”

There’s a bitter smile on Jon Snow’s lips. “I never knew my Dad.”

I held my breath and feel a lump in my throat. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jon.”

“You don’t have anything to say sorry for.” Jon says. He gazes back at me. I thought his eyes were always black but now as I watch him more closely and more intently, I realize they were grey: captivating, piercing and solemn grey.

“As to your question,” Jon leans forward. “I just feel compelled to do what I’m supposed to. Growing up, I only had my mom with me and though she didn’t have a husband to help her share the burden of raising me, she played the part of a mother and a father. She would make me cookies and cook my favorite dish and she would also play basketball with me. And she would always, always remind me to treat everyone fairly and kindly.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman.” I rest my face on my hand.

“Yes, she was,” came Jon’s soft answer.

My heart sinks for Jon. ‘She was.’ No wonder Jon spoke in the past tense. She was here no longer. I catch the sadness in Jon’s eyes. I run to him and fling my arms at him. I hold him in my arms, rubbing his back in a hope that it will ease away his pain. As I am easily moved, I feel the lump of my throat and the tears pooling in my eyes. No one this nice deserves so much pain.

I feel Jon cup the small of my back. 

“Umm, Robb.” His voice is muffled over my shoulders.

“Yes, Jon?”

“Umm. This is getting weird. You can let go now.”

I instantly withdraw myself from him. I have forgotten once again that I’m Robb and a boy and boys don’t give warm and long embraces to other boys. I remember the time Robb broke up with his last girlfriend Roslin. I caught him and Theon talking about it over a bottle of beer in father’s study room. Robb doesn’t even say anything and Theon doesn’t even pry. He pats Robb’s shoulders, lifted his bottle and just urged him to drink. That was how they comfort each other.

“I’ll just make a call outside.” I excuse myself immediately from Jon.

I dial Robb’s phone number the moment I’m outside and out of earshot. Robb finally answers.

“Hello, Sansa!”

“Robb!” I burst into tears.

“Sans, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” I say, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.

“Then, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Jon Snow.” I blurt out.

“Yes, you told me about him. What’s wrong with him? Did he find out? Or did he do anything wrong?”

“No,” I pace around the hall. “He’s very nice and very gallant. I think you would like him.”

“Then, why are you crying?” Robb sounds perplexed over the phone.

“His mom…” I trail off, feeling the lump on my throat once again.

I hear Robb sigh on the other line. “I know. That was very unfortunate. That was the very reason why he moved out of Minnesota. He was sent to the South to live with his foster parents, his father’s living relatives.”

“But why? Where is his father? Why isn’t he there for him?”

“From what I can remember, his father was a captain of the Air Force and he suddenly just disappeared. He’s good as dead, but they never found any trace of him.”

“That’s so sad!” I sobbed. “But he’s such a nice person, Robb. He shouldn’t be suffering like that.”

“SANSA! Don’t cry! If anyone sees you…”

I wipe my tears quickly. “Don’t worry, Robb, the rest of my teammates are out.”

“Well, that’s good, but you can’t be too complacent, alright?” Robb sighs in relief. “So, tell me about your first day? How are you doing?”

“Oh, it’s terrible, Robb…” 

I proceed to tell Robb about the first meeting with Thorne and how he made me do 10 laps because there was a discrepancy in my height with Robb’s. I tell him about Sam, about how Thorne was so mean to him and about how Jon defended him and how he accepted Thorne’s punishment in behalf of Sam. I also tell him about Brienne, the only woman in the camp and how his honor was defended by Jon, too. 

Robb notices that I’m gushing about Jon and he points out. “Sans, it seems you’ve taken a liking to Jon.”

“Well, it’s really nice to know that chivalry still exists.”

“Don’t fall in love with him, okay?”

“What? I—of course not, Robb. I won’t.”

“I’m not saying you can’t fall in love with him ever,” Robb says cautiously. “If he’s as nice as you say he is, then I’d totally support it. But while you’re there right now, while you’re using my name, please don’t make the mistake of falling for anyone. You’re free to do whatever you want after the camp.”

“You’re only concern about your image, aren’t you? And you’re worried of giving people the wrong image.”

“No, of course not. I care about you, too, Sans. I swear.” Robb says. “Which is why I want to spare you from any complications that will arise from this. Listen to my advice, okay?”

“I think I know what’s best for me, Robb.”

“I trust that you would. Take care little sister.”

“You too, Robb.”

 

 

My plan to oust Thorne worked. When we showed up for practice the next day, Mr. Monty announced that Coach Thorne quit. At first there are sighs of relief and cries of joy, but Mr. Monty then announces that Coach Mormont won’t be back until next week and they weren’t able to find a coach to take over for the mean time.

There’s loud cries of protest but Mr. Monty refuses to answer any question. 

“You asked for it,” were his last words to us before he departed.

I don’t feel proud of myself, even if I’ve gotten rid of Thorne. Our team’s fate just sinks like that into the abyss.

“So, what do we do now?” Grenn scratches his head. 

Everyone turns to Jon Snow as if they’re deferring to him. There’s a mutual agreement amongst ourselves that he is our leader. 

“What should we do now, Snow?” Tormund asks.

“Well, we’ve got a ball and we have the court to ourselves.” Jon Snow says. “Why don’t we play an official game to gauge each other’s strengths? Then, we can see which skills we need improving.”

Sam raises his hand. “Oh, I can be the referee.”

Crap. He beat me into it. I want to be referee so I don’t have to play, but then again, what do I know about the rules? As I’ve mentioned, the only thing I know about basketball is to shoot.

“Okay, Skin vs. Shirt.” Jon Snow says. “With me: Satin, Pyp, Cotter and Finn. We’ll be Shirts. The rest of you will be Skin.”

Tormund, Grenn, Gared and Edd starts peeling of their shirt. I stare at them in confusion. What the fudge are they doing? 

“Robb, you’re supposed to…” Sam says to me. 

“Take off your shirt, Robb.” Jon Snow commands. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my chest and screamed, “Oh my god, NO!”

“The fuck Stark?” Tormund stares at me. “Why are you being such a sissy?”

I feel everyone’s gaze on me. 

“I can’t take off my shirt.” I tell them. 

“And why the hell not?” Jon arches his eyebrows. I see Pyp and Satin whisper with one another.

“Because I have allergies.” I fib. 

“What?” 

“Well, I’m a ginger. My skin is really sensitive. If I get them exposed, I get a really bad case of rashes.”

“Tormund’s a ginger. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with it.” Pyp points out.

“That’s because Tormund’s genetic makeup is far more superior than mine.” I reply all-knowingly.

“He’s right, Snow.” Tormund agrees smugly, flexing his chest. “My gene—whatever she said—well, the point is I’m more superior to him.”

“Okay, fine.” Jon Snow nods. “Robb, switch with me.”

I feel so relieved, but I’m instantly in shock when Jon Snow takes off his shirt in front of me. I am not prepared to see that. I AM NOT PREPARED TO SEE THAT! At the moment he’s exposed, my ovaries might have exploded. He is well sculpted, really toned, but he’s not too buff, just perfectly lean. He flexes his arms and I’m swooned. I know Robb warned me about not ogling at boys; moreover not falling for anyone, but I can’t help it. I am a girl after all and I get attracted to boys—most especially pretty ones like Jon Snow.

Oh my god. Oh my god. I just realize this. I have a crush on Jon Snow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry for this late update. I just came back from an intense 10-day workshop. Enjoy this chapter.

“Jump Ball!” Sam announces and blows the whistley.

Tormund from Team Skin steps forward with Finn from my team. Sam throws the ball in the air and the giants jump altogether. It was Tormund who reaches the ball first. He taps it with his palms and Edd catches it.

Everyone runs to the Skin’s side of the court. Edd maneuvers the ball with Satin running after him.

“Stark!” I hear Cotter call. 

I run towards his direction at the right side of the court.

“What are you doing here?”

“I thought you called me.”

“Yes, I did! To make you snap out of your trance. Where’s your position?”

“Ummm…”

“WATCH SNOW!” Pyp cries. When I spin around, I see Jon cutting in front of Pyp and getting past Finn the moment he meets him.

He spins around Finn when he loses him, he lays the ball effortlessly into the ring in one swift motion.

“Two points, Skin!” Sam shouts.

 

“Damnit, Pyp!” Cotter curses.

“That’s not my fault at all. I was already guarding Gared.” Pyp says impatiently. “Robb, you’re supposed to watch Jon.”

“Oh, Me? I’m sorry.” I say dumbly.

“That’s okay.” Cotter says. “The game’s just begun.”

 

Finn inbounds the ball to Satin. Satin brings the ball up towards our side of the court. Midcourt, he makes some hand gestures directed at me.

Confused, I just follow where Pyp goes. 

“To the other side, Stark!” Pyp tells me and I realize that Satin’s hand signals meant for me to position on the left wing of the court. As I travel to the other side, I see the ball being passed to Cotter. He catches the ball and shoots. Unfortunately, he misses. The ball hits the backboard and is now flying towards my direction.

“Rebound!” Someone yelled.

Like a flash of lightning, Jon Snow appears in front of me. Before I can reach for the ball, he leans back and pushes me backwards, then at the right moment, he jumps and takes position. He quickly sends it to Edd.

“Fastbreak!”

Edd moves up the court quickly. When he reaches the zone, Gared was already in position under the ring. He threw the ball up in the air and Gared catches it and lays it up. It all happens so fast, that I didn’t even get to cross the other side.

“Two points again for Skin.”

 

“Let’s take it one step at a time, guys.” Satin says, trying to appease our team’s frustration.

“Let’s go with Robb!” Pyp suggests out of the blue. 

“What?” I stare back at him nervously. “Wh-why me?”

“Let’s see if Sam is right about you. You’re the Young Wolf after all, aren’t you? Show Jon Snow who’s King in the North?”

Oh my god… No… There is no way…

Cotter and Satin inbounds the ball. I run into my position at the left wing of the court. Jon has anticipated I will take my position there and waits in between Cotter and me.

I watch Satin go face to face with Edd. Edd is much shorter than him and he takes advantage of the height difference. He passes the ball overhead towards Cotter on the inside, Cotter is marked by Grenn who is much more brawny and taller than him. He slips the ball behind him and tosses it at me. 

The moment I catch the ball, I lift it up above my head and position to shoot. It’s all what I’m capable of after all. I have this certain belief that if I just shoot the lights out, all my flaws and incompetence will be forgiven. I already pictured my victory when the ball graces my palms, but just before the ball could leave my hand, Jon jumps in front of me and swats the ball away. His presence is too powerful that I fall back and crash on the floor in my butt.

Sam blows the whistle. “Out, Shirts in possession.”

“You okay?” Jon hovers above me. Half-naked and all and I try not to gaze at his abs as he extends his hand towards me.

I accept it and he pulls me to my feet. “Thanks.”

“You look lost, Robb.” Jon says. “It’s like you’ve never played basketball before.”

That’s because I haven’t! I mean, I played with basketball with my brothers and Arya before when we were children, but it wasn’t a real game with rules and a scoring system. And I was up against Bran, Rickon and Arya, all who stand a foot shorter than me.

Cotter inbounds the ball to Satin. Again, Satin looks for me. When I receive the ball from him, Jon takes position in front of me. I move the ball and dribble to my right to free myself from Jon’s defense. But he is quicker than me and much more athletic; moreover, my handling with the ball is pathetic. When I try to move past him, he swipes the ball from my hand effortlessly. To him, it must be like taking a candy from a baby.

I hear my teammate growl at me as our opponent get back on the other side. Jon’s strides in one swift motion. No one can catch up to him. When he reaches the paint, he is unstoppable. He lays the ball in with his fingers gracefully dangling in the air. Once again, they score.

 

“Sam, you can’t be more right.” Pyp says sarcastically as he walks to the baseline to inbound the ball. He looks at me exasperatingly and I wish I can ignore it. Cotter makes clicking noises with his tongue when I stride past him; Finn looks at me with disgust and there’s a look of pity on Satin’s face.

Jon’s team scored ten more points before we did. The first bucket was only because Tormund fouled Cotter when he drove into the basket. The more I try to play, the more my weaknesses are exposed. The other team even gave me a handicap when they switched Edd to defend me instead of Jon. Still, I didn’t make any buckets. What I have accumulated are a dozen of turnovers, three fouls and two travelling violations. When we played in the second half, the team decided to disregard me from the game. So, I stood watching from the left wing while they pass the ball around each other. I was in the game, but the ball never touched my hands. As a defender, I’m also hopeless. They made me guard Edd instead of Jon instead, but despite my height advantage over the shorter man, Edd still owned me.

“Final score! 75-34. Winner: Skin” Sam announces at the end of the game.

I am exhausted to the core. The moment the whistle is blown, I look for the nearest bench and collapse.

“Great game, Snow.” Tormund congratulates Jon. He’s scored 33 points, which makes him score just a point less than all of our efforts combined.

“Shit, this guy’s fucking terrible.” Pyp shakes his head at me.

“How many turnovers did Robb commit?” Jon asks Sam.

“22 turnovers.” Sam replies grimly. I see the look of pity and confusion in his eyes. “I don’t understand, though. He’s supposed to be good.”

“Have you seen him play in person to guarantee that?” Pyp questions.

“No, I haven’t. But I heard from my friends in the basketball team. He’s supposed to be good. I don’t know what happened.”

“Geez, Sam, you shouldn’t be dissuaded so easily by rumors.” Pyp shakes his head. “Robb is obviously a pretender.”

 

My stomach flips uncomfortably when Pyp gives me the side eye. I clench my fist at my sides. I’ve never felt this humiliated before. I rise and walk towards my teammates. With eyes downcast, I say to them, “I’m sorry guys. I’m not feeling like myself.”

There’s a look of disgust on the faces of Pyp, Cotter and Finn. 

“You know what, Robb? Stop being a sissy and make excuses.” Pyp’s hands are crossed around him. “I don’t care so much if you suck. Sam probably sucks more than you do and we’re all here in this camp to improve our skills anyway. But you know what the difference between you and Sam is? Sam doesn’t gloat and make rumors about being a superstar athlete. You, on the other hand, you act like you’re too good for us, but you don’t even have the skills to back it up.”

Some of our teammates quietly agree. When Pyp walks out of the gym, they follow him. 

Only Sam and Jon remain with me.

“Since when have I acted like I’m too good for everyone?”

“I think because you always turn us down when we invite you guys to do something with us.”

“Wait—that includes me, too?” Jon asks, looking confused as well as I do.

“Umm, yes, Jon. Apparently.” Sam nods. “That’s because you two do not always go with us, so most of us, Pyp especially, thinks that the reason you don’t hang out with us is that you’re both remorseful at being sorted into The Crows Team.”

 

“Remorseful?” Jon scoffs. “I personally selected to play for The Crows.”

“You did?” Sam eyes widen. 

“Yes, I did. When I find out Coach Mormont was coaching The Crows, I called the organizers to have me transferred immediately.”

“Sam,” I sigh deeply. “I never intend to make people feel like I’m too good for them. If my behavior made it seemed like so, I apologize.”

“There’s no need for that, Robb. I think it’s all a big misunderstanding, really.” Sam says kindly. “Although I don’t understand why people say you’re that good, when—“ Sam pauses considerately. “Well, I hear about great players in shooting slumps. Maybe, that’s the case with you, too?”

“Yes,” I nodded willingly. “That’s it! I’m having a shooting slump.”

“Okay.” Sam smiles contently. “I’ll go talk to the others about you. I’ll make them understand. Don’t worry.”

Sam excuses himself and follows after Pyp and the others.

Jon meets my eyes and shudders. “I’m sorry about your shooting slump. Every player goes through them. But yours is weird, though. Most people in slumps just couldn’t get lucky with their shots. You, on the other hand, when you were playing out there, it seems like you have no idea what you’re doing at all.”

Because I really had no idea what I’m really doing.

“Do you know that the Lions talked about you?” Jon asks. “I rode with this blond guy in the shuttle yesterday. He mentioned you. Like Sam, he called you the ‘Young Wolf’, too.”

“Blond guy? You mean Joffrey.” I feel bile rising in my stomach at the mention of him.

“Umm, I don’t know. I didn’t get his name, but he was blond and to be honest quite a prick and I say this not to be judgmental or anything. I’m only saying this because of how he treated the shuttle driver.”

“Don’t worry, Jon. You’re not being judgmental at all. Joffrey’s an asshole. That’s a given fact.”

“Why does it seem like you’re so mad at him?”

“Well, he dated my sister once.” I cringe at the memory. “He tricked her into thinking he was a nice gentleman, but he took her to his family’s hotel chain and almost forced himself on her. My sister punched him in the face and took off and he made up all sorts of rumors about my sister being deranged.”

“Aw Man, I feel bad for your sister. What an asshole!” Jon clenches his fist. I find his instant anger towards Joffrey cute.

“You know what he said? He said that when you meet on the court, he’s going to pulverize you.”

“Ha!” I scoff. “As if! That little punk is no match for Ro—I mean me.”

 

“Well,” Jon Snow grimaces. “No offense, Robb, but right now, you kind of suck.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” I grimace. Hearing the truth from Jon himself hurt.

I collect my duffel bag and drag my feet despondently out the gym. When I get back to my room, I’m going to curl under the sheets and most probably cry.

“Robb!”

“Yes?” I blink at Jon.

“If you want, I can help you get back to your rhythm.”

There isn’t a rhythm to get back to, Jon. Sigh, I wish you know but you know nothing. Nothing at all.

“If you want, we can practice together.”

“That’s so sweet of you, Jon. Thanks, but I don’t think I will be able to get over my slump any soon. You said it yourself. It’s a special kind of slump. It’s not even just my shooting that’s off. Honestly, everything is off. It’s like my body just shut down and completely forgot how to play.”

“Then, let’s go back to the basics. I can help you remember the fundamentals if that’s what is concerning you.”

“But won’t you be bored? Dribbling drills, passing, and stuff like that would probably be too tedious for you.”

 

Jon palms my shoulders. “I don’t mind. If it means spending time with you.”

I can easily swoon with those words. I wish I am Sansa at this very moment and flirt back. Batting my eyelashes at him would probably work on him already. But I am Robb and if I do that, it would be creepier for him than sexy.

Shoot! Why am I taking Jon Snow’s words in a different context? He’s not flirting with you, Sansa! He’s just being best-friendly BROmantic with Robb. It’s the same context as when Theon and Robb say ‘I love you, bros’ to each other when they’re drunk or when they throw random compliments to each other when they’re playing video games.

“After all, we have ten years of catching up to do.” Jon says. 

“Well, if you really insist, then sure.” 

“Good.” Jon smiles. I think it’s the first one he’s directed at me. “Let’s bring back your groove so you can kick the living shit out of Joffrey.”

Jon calling Joffrey a living shit totally makes my day. It even totally makes up for the devastatingly embarrassing game I played a while ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, this is my first Game of Thrones fanfic. I hope that you enjoy reading it. I would really appreciate it if you would share your thoughts about it.
> 
> The story is very different from the usual fanfics. It isn't written in the third person, nor is it angsty and dark. This one's very light-hearted. It's my poor attempt at a romantic comedy, although I try to make it as relatable as possible.
> 
> I, myself, am a huge basketball fan. I'm not sure if everyone here is familiar about basketball, but maybe when a chapter that's heavily about basketball will come, I will add a glossary of basketball terms as your guide.


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